My daughter’s body
by Eve Louise Makoff
Arms tightly folding me
Into soft as a pink shell
Sweet as the night Jasmine
Pouring over sandstone planters
As we walk, the moon over the mountains
Silhouettes of curving bodies
Or guitars singing of erasing history
Enveloping new paths
Insisting to exist
Rejecting decimation
Sweet milk in a potter’s teacup
Like the mother I never had
* * * * *
Eve
Louise Makoff is an internal medicine and palliative care physician and a
writer.
No comments:
Post a Comment